Warriors of the Hard Game
by Casual Innocence
Summary: Many years after the death of King Elessir, Legolas Greenleaf still isn't married. Worse, his father is coming to visit him in the near, unforseeable future. This elf needs to get married, but a childhood friend has something to say about his choices.


**_Note_**: A great deal of research has gone into making this story as accurate (so as not to distract the reader from the humor and romance of the story) as possible. Please report any mistakes to me _immediately _so I may remedy them as best as I can. Another thing is that if you think the behavior is slightly odd for Tolkien characters, it's okay. I'm fully aware of how Elves truly are, and how Tolkien liked to portray them. But Tolkien gave little personality to a great many of his characters, and I thought a little bit more character might be fun. Thank you.

Ellie

**_Disclaimer_**: The following text is a reader's continuation of the story(s) J.R.R. Tolkien created in the years leading up to it's publication in the years 1954 (_The Fellowship of the Ring_; _The Two Towers_) and 1955 (_The Return of the King_). None of this is a reproduction in any way of the story, nor does it infringe on any copyright laws. I am not being paid to write this story, nor am I being endorsed to pass the ideas on to the readers. It is written for the pure enjoyment of sharing ideas with fellow readers.

And now with the legal parts all outta the way, we shall proceed….

* * *

"Are you sure she said she would meet us here?" Legolas Greenleaf asked his close friend and adviser, Tintilar. They were standing in the middle of a clearing, deep within the Woods of Oromë. The sun was coming through the canopy of the ancient trees, proving that today was a lovely day to be outside, but not courting for a wife. Instead, Legolas wished to be riding or at least doing something constructive.

"Positive. The messenger said that—ah, there she is." A pretty she-elf in a turquoise gown was sitting on the other side of a large rock, obstructing her from their immediate view. Legolas approached her, while Tintilar hung back, watching. He had watched his lord with some ladies, but not many. The prince had never approached the same way twice, and it was proving, thus far, interesting. He had, of course, rejected most of them. This one, however, was different. Legolas had first approached her, asking her to dance one eve. She had proved a humorous dance partner, and he had requested that she meet him again. The next day, she sent a messenger, telling him to meet her here, at the _Elendiriel Unque_, or Star-gazing Hollow. The girl herself was blonde, with blue eyes, and pale, pretty skin. Her nose was regal, her eyes large, her ears small, and her facial bones defined.

"Good morning, milady," Legolas said, stooping to gently take and kiss the fair maiden's hand. She blushed, and said, "Yes, it is."

"I think it amusing that thus far, I do not know your name," Legolas said, smirking, although it wasn't true, and Tintilar knew it. He laughed to himself—the wanker was using the conventional means to court her.

"It's Wilwarin, milord," she said, standing, and taking a curtsy.

"How suiting," he said of her name, and then gestured to the lily beside her. Almost magically, a butterfly had appeared. Tintilar snickered nastily. He was showing off. Legolas had caught the poor thing some way off, dazzled it with an old Elvish trick, and placed it upon the lily with slight of hand.

Wilwarin giggled accordingly, and Legolas smiled easily. They began to walk, making conversation, and Tintilar began to follow them stealthily between the trees. Legolas was leading her towards his House, and Tintilar knew that this meant a short visit. Apparently when Legolas said he was "intrigued," he had meant it only as a passing interest. _Princes can be such playboys_, thought the elf snidely.

"What is it you like to do, Wilwarin?" asked Legolas, feigning interest in the life of a dull elven heiress.

"Well…" she started, and Legolas internally sighed. She was going into monologue mode. "…I particularly love singing and dancing. They're frightfully fun, are they not?" She didn't pause to let him agree. "I like to embroider, read, write, play with children, small animals, and if I'm feeling particularly brave—" her voice dropped to a whisper "—I like to take a ride on my pony, Guenifer."

Legolas smiled pleasantly, casting a dark look back into the trees to see where Tint had gone. He was practically begging the elf to come out of the trees, but of course he couldn't hear the prince's thoughts, and Legolas was on his own now.

While he listened to her chatter incessantly, the courtyard of his house came into sight. Beside his house lay the house of his father's friend, Dindhol and a handful of his many children (he was very prolific).

"There's a view you simply _must _see," Legolas told her while she paused for breath. "It's at the top tower, you can't see it from here."

Wilwarin grinned stupidly, allowing her person to be led into Legolas' home. For a moment, Legolas considered shutting the door in her face. Another pushed that thought out of his head, which was to shove her off the top of the tower and have done with her altogether. He was a little horrified that he seriously considered it, and, almost in payment, took her on a tour of the house. Of course, he soon regretted the choice. She chattered on and on about her uncles' houses that were Alda only knows where.

As the two strolled through the library, one wondering if the other would propose, the other wondering if they would have to shove a book down the other's throat to shut them up, a she-elf stumbled into Wilwarin, causing the noise to stop immediately. She had come from a passageway leading back into Legolas' chambers, and he glared suspiciously at the offender. It was Ninniach, and his glare was returned by an unabashed grin. She grabbed his hand, using it to pull herself back up. Her dishwater blond hair was askew, her cheeks tanned and flush, her ears rather large, her face plump. She smoothed her tunic off, then bent down to scratch a mud spot off of her boots.

"Was there something you needed from my chambers, _Ninniach_?" snapped Legolas.

"Aw, no, Legolas. You know me, always in trouble. Incidentally, the gardener was looking for me. I'm afraid I tripped over a month's work of carrots, and he's dreadfully angry. I couldn't believe he would follow me into your house, but he did."

"Ninniach, the gardener _works for me_. Of _course _he came in! He's allowed!" Legolas bellowed. She gazed back unflinchingly.

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch. Hey, help me push this door shut. I always have difficulty getting it completely closed. That damn latch at the bottom is such a bother."

Wilwarin nudged Legolas conspicuously. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your little sister, Leggie?"

Ninniach looked at Legolas; Legolas looked at Ninniach. Both burst into laughter. "What's the matter?" asked Wilwarin angrily, looking at both of them, placing her hands on her hips.

Ninniach looked down her nose at the elf-heiress. She may have been gorgeous, but Ninniach had about five inches of height on her, being an inch taller than Legolas himself. "For your information, I'm his neighbor," she said with a snort.

"And sorry, Willy," Legolas said in contempt for her adapted nickname of 'Legolas,' "but she's got about seven-hundred years on you."

Wilwarin looked abashed for a moment, and then said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect you."

"Sokay, little darling," Ninniach said condescendingly. "Whipper snappers these days just aren't what they used to be." She winked at the girl.

"Ninniach, what are you doing right now?" Legolas asked her suddenly, and her face took on an alarmed look, showing Legolas that she knew exactly what he was on about.

"Well, see, Dad wanted me to—"

"Great, you can take her up to the tower. I'll fix up the carrot business with the gardener. Okay? Okay." He was gone before Ninniach could respond, and she angrily blew her hair out of her face, her face taking on the look of an angry wolf. Angrily she grabbed Wilwarin's hand and stalked out of the library, taking the girl with her, plotting revenge on the elf-lord.

* * *

Later that night, Tintilar, Gimli, Gimli's wife, Ninniach, Ninniach's sister Alquawen, Wilwarin, and Legolas ate supper. The meal was resplendent—venison, duck, wild boar, brocolli, peas, potatoes, the finest wheat bread, and a dessert of sweetmeats. Wilwarin led the conversation by talking of kittens and bunnies. Legolas motioned for the cook to step to his side so that he may whisper in his ear, "Bring some of that rabbit jerky, please. I think the Lady would like to try some." Laughing at his Lord's joke, the chef immediately went to the kitchen to find some of the hard meat.

Alquawen heard the comment, whispering it to Gimli's wife, Dorigh, who whispered it to Gimli, who mouthed it to Tintilar, who, though not understanding a word that Gimli mouthed, had heard the exchange and whispered it to Ninniach, who giggled to herself. Unfortunately, the giggle gave rise to a chuckle, and a chuckle gave rise to a laugh, and a laugh gave rise to Wilwarin's curiosity. Ninniach took a bite to cover it up, but it was to no avail. "Why do you laugh, dearest Ninniach?"

Ninniach choked on her venison, coughing and spluttering. Tintilar gingerly (as possible as it is to do so) hit her back hard. Her half-chewed piece landed in her plate with a plop, and she gulped her wine eagerly. Everyone but Legolas, Gimli, and Wilwarin, and of course Ninniach snickered amongst each other. Legolas didn't laugh because he was furious at her, Gimli because he was nearly drunk, and Wilwarin because she had missed the joke.

"Well, what is it?" asked Wilwarin, ignoring the rest of the table.

"I fancy a bit more of that mead," said Alquawen loudly, and Dorigh nodded her head spiritedly.

"Nothing like a good bit of ale to make the cool autumn night slightly warmer, eh?" the Dwarfess said tentatively.

"Aye," the elf-maiden said, shrugging her brown braid over her shoulder.

"Come now, I'm dying to know what you're laughing about. Aren't you dying to know what she's laughing about?" she asked Legolas.

"Our surest way of disappointing her is not asking her any more," Legolas said with fire in his eyes.

Wilwarin ignored him. "Come now, I simply must know what you're laughing about," she cried.

"I was recalling a joke," Ninniach said archly. "Jerky?" she asked, pointing the bowl that was approaching the table. She reached in as the cook walked by, grabbing a large piece and biting it ravenously. If possible, Legolas looked more annoyed.

"What's eatin' you?" she asked, her mouth full.

"Your manners," he replied through gritted teeth.

Wilwarin took a bite of the jerky, chewing quickly and swallowing politely. This was too much for Ninniach, who ducked below the table to hide the tears streaming from her eyes. She sat back up when she composed herself. "This jerky is simply delicious. Please send the recipe to my father's House," Wilwarin demanded to the cook. Turning back to Ninniach, she said, "I was quite the comedian in my younger years. I was the best at telling jokes, everyone said so. No one here could possibly tell a better joke, and even if it was the same joke, it wouldn't be as funny if it weren't me who said it."

Ninniach looked at her, irritated by her impudence. "Really? Let's hear one then."

Wilwarin looked taken aback. "Tell one? Now?"

"Yea. Unless you're afraid I'm going to call you for bull shit."

Deeply affronted by her language, tone, and challenge, Wilwarin sat up in her chair. "Very well, then." She closed her eyes, rolling her tongue loudly, causing the entire table to stare at her. She opened her eyes, and launched into the stupidest joke ever heard by any of the diners at the table. "Once upon a time, there was a griddle. It was a magic griddle…er, that's all wrong. No, it's just a regular griddle. And there are—were two muffins baking on it. One said, 'Oh dear, the flames are quite hot on here.' The other said, 'Oh my, a talking biscuit.'"

There was silence from the table. A cricket was heard on the windowsill. "That was stupid," grunted Gimli, only to be hushed warningly by his wife.

"I thought you said they were muffins," grunted Ninniach, looking at the nerve wracked Wilwarin with distaste.

"Oh, yes, sorry," the poor girl remedied.

Suddenly, Ninniach burst into a gale of laughter, lasting thirty seconds at the least. Legolas was simply too angry to talk, and his face turned bright pink. "I suggest you drink no more wine, Ninniach," he said through clenched teeth. She was still laughing too hard to register what he said, and he snapped at a servant to remove the glass. Immediately she sobered. "Hey! I was still drinking that!"

"No you're not. You're losing your grip. Now shut up."

Wilwarin looked between the warring friends with confusion. She hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on here. All she knew was that she was ready for the check.

"Well, this has been a lovely afternoon, but I need to go now."

Legolas nodded politely, standing, and then helped her out of her chair. As soon as they left the room, the diners burst into laughter, Tintilar clapping his young friend on the back. She giggled with him, then sobered. "You know I'm in for a good deal of trouble when he gets back, don't you?"

Tintilar's face straightened, and he said, "Yes, indeed. He was infuriated. There's going to be a large row, I know it."

"Oh dear," she said, grimacing. "I hate fighting with Legolas. It's like fighting with myself. 'Take that last cake.' 'No, don't!' 'Take it!' 'Don't!' 'Take it!' 'Don't!'"

Tintilar laughed, looking away. She was right, of course. Always right when it came to Legolas. The boy didn't know what he was up against in regards to her. She was too smart.

"NINNIACH!" bellowed Legolas from the doorway. He stood there, shaking with fury.

"Better go feed the dog," Ninniach muttered to Tintilar, standing and throwing her handkerchief onto her platter. "What? Not going to pull my chair out for me?" she called to the waiting elf.

She left the room with Legolas bellowing at her all the way down the hall.

Legolas and Ninniach stood on the mezzanine, yelling at each other. "You're such a pig! You've never been the _least _bit helpful or supporting with any of my girlfriends!"

"I'm the pig! _I'm _the pig! Legolas, I was doing you a favor each and every damn time. You have the most incurably bad taste in women; it's pitiful. You like ninnies, idiots. You might as well be picking humans for all the qualities you like!"

"It's none of your damn business who I like!" Legolas bellowed back into her face. His face softened. "Why do you care so much?" he asked her, gazing into her large gray eyes. Ninniach knew what was coming. She didn't know what to do. Slowly his hands encircled her waist, and his mouth pressed against hers, which was soft and inviting. The kiss was unlike any other either had partaken in, and the relief in finally kissing the other was too much.

Suddenly Ninniach pulled back. "This is wrong, Legolas. You know it. I'm betrothed, to Polkaer."

Legolas' gaze hardened. "So it's to be like that, eh?" he asked. "Fine."

He left Ninniach to stare up at the stars and wonder why on earth her feelings were so conflicted at the moment.

The following morning, Ninniach saw Wilwarin back at Legolas' house. She waved at Ninniach from across the courtyard, and Ninniach inclined her head, suddenly feeling like the ground was rising. She went inside, going to her room, and sitting on her bed, thinking away the early hours until she fell to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

That night, Polkaer ate with her family. It was necessary, seeing as the wedding was a month away. The two elves had met in the days when Ninniach snuck out her window to listen to war councils. A deep believer that the Mirkwood elves should help Gondor in full force, she listened to the meetings even when her parents told her that they didn't approve her getting involved in court politics. She would either be a soldier or a home wife—not a politician. She was noble, but her older brothers got the titles and land that came with being the oldest. An older elf had caught her. That was Polkaer.

_What do you here, Ninniach Miraear, Daughter of Dindhol_? he had asked, amusement on his face.

_I wanted to listen, and I wasn't supposed to come. You won't tell, will you?_

_Of course not. You're old enough to decide what you do. Your parents shouldn't be allowed to hold you back._

Instantly, Ninniach had respected and revered him. Her loyalty in most things belonged to Polkaer. The romance had blossomed, and they had decided later that they would marry eventually. They had never set the date until recently when he had decided it was time to settle down. She agreed wholeheartedly, settling for a time six months later, now only a month away.

She sat next to him, and wondered unhappily, _Why can I only think of Legolas?_

_Wait until after dinner_, a voice told her. _You two will be alone and you'll seem as young lovers once more. Your feelings will return._

But they didn't, and Ninniach was miserable as he kissed her in the privacy of her own room, first on the forehead, then on the nose, and then the mouth, then the neck, then the hollow of her throat. They were alone and unattended. Her parents allowed her free reign with whatever she wished to do, and they trusted the two wouldn't get into terrible trouble.

His hands began to pull off her tunic, but she stopped him. "Not tonight, Polkaer," she told him. Her hands stroked his black hair, and she gazed into his black eyes. "I don't think I can…"

"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make it worth your while."

After their lovemaking, Polkaer sat at the edge of the bed, putting on his clothing. Ninniach sat stark naked in the bed. Polkaer no longer wanted to lounge around without clothing, kissing and giggling into the late hours. It had once been the best part of their physical relationship. Now they simply made love, and he left.

"Polkaer, don't you wish to stay?" she asked, looking at him cautiously. He rolled his eyes, praying that she didn't use the voice for inducing guilt.

He turned and smiled his best. "Of course I do, but I must return home. Your parents are waiting for me to leave. No doubt they know our activities, and we don't want to anger them."

"They don't give a damn, you know that," she said, a bit angrily. He was making excuses. "Don't you love me?" she asked. "Don't you want it to be like it used to?"

"Yes, dearest, but I have to go."

He kissed her on the head, and then left, making her feel dirty and used.

* * *

The next day was cloudy and overcast. _Perfect, _thought Ninniach, grabbing her bow and hunting knife. She walked deep into the woods, toward the best hunting spot in the wood—_Ninniach Lanthir_—Rainbow Waterfall. Legolas used to tease her and say that she had been named for the loud falls, while she said that her beauty had inspired the name.

In truth, the falls provided the perfect angle for a rainbow at most times of the day. They were also the best place for water in the wood. Every animal loved the cold freshness of the constantly churned waters, and the game was biggest the closer a hunter got to the falls.

She climbed a tree, watching and waiting.

She hadn't been waiting long before she heard the crackle of dead leaves and she wheeled around in the trees, looking for the creature that had made the sounds. She saw nothing, but now she was ready for something. Suddenly, something jumped at her from the top of the tree, and she tumbled to the ground, fighting off whatever was biting at her face and clawing her to shreds.

She managed to pull a raccoon off her person, looking at the angry creature with distaste. It was rather small, and female. She held it by the scruff of the neck, reaching into her pocket, and pulled out some jerky. It grabbed it from her, sniffing it gingerly. It then shoved the entire piece in its mouth and reached for more. She sat on her haunches, pulling out another piece, and placing the raccoon on the ground with its food. It sat back and waited for her to feed it more. "You're a most irregular raccoon," she told it, watching it eat. "Most raccoons come out at night, and don't associate with people at all."

It merely sniffed at her, looking for more food. When it found she didn't have any more, it scrambled back up the tree, chittering angrily at her. "Okay, okay," she said, laughing, "but don't bite the hand that feeds you."

She looked around and saw a green clock flash in the distant trees. Glaring, she disappeared, jumping into the top branches of a tree. She saw the person pass below her, a blonde head of hair gleaming up to the branches of the tree.

She jumped on top of the person, who collapsed under her weight. She held them down, staring down at them. "Why, hello Legolas."

He stared up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Ready to pounce on any stranger as they pass by, are we?"

"No, I just want to get in your breeches," she said snidely. He shoved her off, and she helped him to his feet. His hand lingered on hers longer than was necessary, and she flushed.

"Remember when this place had so much magic? The first decade we were here it was so amazing." Legolas watched her face as she gazed at the falls. "Yes, beautiful even," he murmured.

"Would you like a closer look?" Ninniach asked him, grabbing his hand. "Yes," he said, his heart beating a little faster. He hoped she couldn't hear it, because it began to beat louder. They neared the pond and she looked into the waters, pondering. Her hand was still on his, and he wasn't going to let go. "Look," she said, pointing into the pond. Legolas looked, and then with a giggle, Ninniach pushed him in.

Spluttering, he surfaced. Ninniach smiled, giving him her hand. Almost before he took it, she realized what a mistake this had been. With a contemptuous tug, he pulled her in after him. She surfaced gracelessly, kicking and flailing.

He grinned at her, opening his mouth to no doubt point out her unelven-like qualities, but she stopped him. "Cram it."

With a bit more violence, they both walked into the falls, resigned to the fact they were already wet.

Ninniach smiled at Legolas, yelling over the noise, "The noise—it's as loud as silence!"

Legolas' hands circled her waist in the familiar fashion. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her mouth pressed to his. Her tongue flickered softly in his mouth, delving a little deeper with each stroke of the tongue. Suddenly he pulled apart from her, gasping. "And what of your engagement?" he asked her, his brow furrowed.

"What of it?" she asked breathlessly, reading his lips to perfection. She moved closer, but he stopped her. "Propriety prevents me from continuing."

"And my body tells me to continue," she said, her hands running down his spine. He shivered, and she smiled. She guided his hands up her tunic, her mouth on his jaw, kissing every inch of skin she could touch.

He removed his hands from her chest, and then grabbed her face with both hands. "Are you sure?" he mouthed.

"Yes," she shouted.

Hours later, they returned to his House, soaked, tired, and happy. They snuck into his room, not wanting to be seen by anyone. With a smile, Legolas led her into his chambers, grinning like an idiot.

"What's got you so happy?" Ninniach asked him, taking off her tunic and leggings, placing them on a chair before the fire, shivering. He followed suit, then turned to her, rubbing her shoulders. "Well…"

"Please don't tell me that was your first!" she gasped.

"It was," he admitted, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"I can't believe it," she said incredulously. "Any one of those bimbos would gladly have slept with you in all those years…"

"Yes, well, I didn't want to sleep with them. Happy?"

"Yes, completely," she said contentedly, leading him over to the bed, and kissed him on the mouth. "Do _you _love me?" she asked him.

He paused, "I don't know."

She looked pleased with his answer. "You're not lying, but you're not denying it. Your answer is truthful and sincere."

"So, you're not angry about sexual relations without love?" he asked her.

"No. I don't think I ever loved Polkaer." She slid into the white covers of the bed.

His eyebrows rose, but he followed her into bed.

* * *

Afterwards, Ninniach lay in Legolas' arms, letting him trace her perfect skin.

"Have you ever wondered why we are so in awe of other elves' beauty? It's something we should grow accustomed to living with, I think. And yet...we do not," she thought aloud.

Legolas contemplated it for a moment. "We love anything natural, subconsciously. Elves are natural. It's almost the same love we have for trees and stars."

She rolled over, looking at him. "But there's more to it than that. I mean, we're so fascinated, and yet, it's nothing new."

"We can all love one another without _loving _each other," he said thoughtfully. "I've always had a great deal of fun with you. You make me laugh, and you're spontaneous, with that fiery part of you that makes fighting with you the most incredible thrill."

"Yes, but would you care to put up with that every day of your life?" she asked him, a wry grin plastered on her face.

"Maybe," he said, smile fading. "Maybe not," he then said, chuckling. She grabbed a pillow and hit him hard. He cried out, swatting at her. "Stop that!"

She jumped out of the bed. "You don't actually want me to," she said, mocking him seductively.

"Ninniach, if you want to go at it again, you can keep that up," he told her sternly.

"Really?" she asked, lowering her voice, sounding throaty. "But, Legolassssss, I would soooo like that," she said, flickering her tongue.

"That's it!" he said, getting out of the bed abruptly. "I'm taking you right there on the floor--"

A knock sounded on the door, and Ninniach jumped into the bed, pulling the covers over her head. Legolas put on something—Ninniach couldn't see—and answered the door.

"Your mail, milord. Four messengers came today from the North, two from the South, and one of the west."

Legolas thanked his steward, shutting the door softly. He took the letters to his bed.

"Oh look, this one is from my father," he said, pulling the covers off Ninniach's head.

"Oh? How is he?"

"It says he's well...oh shit, he's coming here."

"What? Now?" Ninniach scrambled to get clothing.

Legolas grabbed her hand, saying, "No, no, within a fortnight." His gaze lifted from her to the fire. "That means I have to do some very fast cleaning." He turned back to her. "And marrying."

"Have you decided upon Wilwarin?" she asked him wearily.

"No, she's one of the silliest I've seen. I hope that some of these letters are from suitable young ladies." In reality, he knew precisely whom he was going to ask, but he hoped that she would be somewhat surprised.

"I see," Ninniach said coolly. "And am I allowed to greet these young women? Decide upon their worthiness?"

"Yes, I think that would be a good thing. Five minutes with you can run any of the really silly ones out of the Wood, and twenty minutes is good enough for any of the ones with the least bit of common sense. Half an hour if they're good."

Her smile was not incensed, and she still looked annoyed. "What's the big deal, anyway?" she asked him. "I don't see why you need to get married for your father," she pouted. "We're having such good fun."

"Yes," he said gently. "But even good things must come to an end."

"So you'll be courting ninnies by day, and shagging me by night? That's classy, Legolas." She had crossed her arms across her chest, looking like a grumpy nymph.

He hushed her. "Only so I may have more time with you," he told her.

She looked happy for the moment being, and allowed him to read his letters while cuddled tightly to his body.

* * *

Two days later, they were sitting at luncheon with five of the silliest women either elf had ever met. They simpered over Ninniach (thinking her, once more, Legolas' little sister, and neither Legolas nor Ninniach bothered to correct them), giggled at Legolas' jokes, and flirted with anything that moved. Even the cooks fell victim to their attentions.

Ninniach's head was threatening to explode, and she was grumpy. One of the girls, Coriander (or was it Laire?) turned to her. "So what is it that you do in your days, my dear?" she asked in condescending tones.

"I'm a warrior," Ninniach told her. "I'm a Sergeant of the Royal Honor Guard."

"Oh how cute!" one of the girls exclaimed. "She still likes to play war games! How old are you, dear?" she asked.

"Madame, I was born in the year 1508 of the Third Age," she told her through clenched teeth.

The girl looked rather confused. "But--"

"Oh, don't worry, my superior intellect and maturity has nothing to do with yours," Ninniach said contemptuously.

The girl looked relieved, but once more baffled. She wasn't sure how to respond, or if that even merited a comeback. Ninniach rolled her eyes painfully. _If it's a matter of _deserving, she thought savagely_, Legolas deserves all of them, put together, for even going after them in the first place!_

Legolas looked at her, knowing what she was thinking, begging the Valar she would have the patience to stick around afterwards. They exchanged a look, and she shook her head slightly. With a sigh, Legolas pushed back the chair, asking for every one of them to come into the garden before they left. They all simpered and giggled and waited for him to help them out of their chairs. Ninniach stood by herself, muttering, much to the surprise of the seated women. She walked into the hall, her brow furrowed.

Paying more attention to Ninniach than the lady he was helping, Legolas pushed the seat in, as opposed to pulling it out, and the unlucky elf-maiden endured a few moments of pain, spluttering and coughing until Legolas figured out what he was doing. "Oops, sorry, milady." She looked bashful at the direct address, and merely blushed.

He was getting ready to leave, pushing the others into the garden, when another girl entered the doorway.

She was one of the most beautiful elves he had ever seen. Her hair was the lightest blond, long and gorgeous, with graceful blue eyes, and delicate, small bones in her face. She was dressed elegantly in a dress of the lightest, blue silk. Legolas saw Ninniach behind the mysterious lady, her face contorted in pain, misery, and jealousy.

Legolas' gaze flicked to the young woman, and he stepped forward to take her hand and kiss it.

"I am Arsilmawen, milord. I'm frightfully sorry that I was late. My father needed help with the scrolls, and I couldn't leave him. My horse became lame halfway through the pastures of Yavanna, and I had to stop because I was tired--"

"It's quite all right," Legolas told her, grinning. Her voice was pleasantly low, and she held his gaze without blushing or turning away shyly.

"Please, this is my sister, Ninniach," he said, introducing Ninniach for the first time.

The girl barely looked at her. "She is not. She is Ninniach Miraear, daughter of Dindhol."

Legolas' eyebrows lifted elegantly. She may seem pleasant, but she was haughty and impertinent.

"Would you like to come to the gardens with us?" he asked.

"Why yes, I would," she said, extending a hand so that Legolas might escort her. Ninniach rolled her eyes. She wasn't a ninny—this one would be harder to get rid of. She lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, only to see, to her pleasure, that Polkaer had ridden up to her house. She ran to his side, calling his name.

He looked pleased, too, to see her, and he embraced her. "What are we doing, poppet?"

"Legolas is having a party in the garden. Would you like to attend?" She didn't pause, and said, "Good, me, too."

They entered the garden hand in hand, and Legolas felt a stab of jealousy. To his surprise, three of the girls exclaimed, "Polkaer!"

The elf looked deeply uncomfortable and Ninniach's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you know these women, _sweetheart_?" she asked tightly.

"Yes, they, uh...family connections." Ninniach wasn't fooled, but she let it go for the time being.

"Do you know him, Arsilmawen?" she asked.

The girl appraised her coolly. "Yes, I do. Are you to marry this elf?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, her voice as even and frosty.

To Arsilmawen's, Legolas', and Polkaer's great discomfort, she turned and kissed him hard on the mouth. "We love each other, don't we sweetling?" she asked him, basking in the light of confusion.

"Uh..."

She smiled at everyone, saving her last smile for Legolas, who was pale and looking unhappy.

He grabbed Arsilmawen's hand, and she had the grace to look surprised, but then pleased. Ninniach's frustration grew, but she sat on the bench. Some of the girls were unsure of how to react, and they left, sweeping past Polkaer and Ninniach, some "accidentally" touching the elf on their way out. Ninniach was furious. So his physical needs were being met somewhere else. She would make the cheater pay dearly. They stared into space for a while, until suddenly, the temptation was too much for Ninniach.

"Isn't Polkaer's snoring dreadful?" she asked Arsilmawen abruptly, and the girl was surprised into answering.

"Yes, it is. I always found that if you put him on his left side,though, he shuts up."

Ninniach's face contorted in fury, and she looked at the scared Polkaer.

"Well, I would say that I might try that, but I might never have to," she snapped.

"Ninniach--" Polkaer started, but he never finished. Ninniach grabbed his ear, pulling him out of the garden, through the house, and then savagely kicked him in the rump, out onto the courtyard.

Ninniach came back into the garden, and she grabbed the other girl by her lovely hair, yanking her away from Legolas.

"Get off me, you crazy bitch!" yelled the girl, being yanked gracefully through the house. Legolas hadn't followed.

"Are you sure you want an elf that won't even check to see if you're okay?" she hissed savagely.

The girl merely shrieked more, twisting and pulling.

"Oh no, you don't. I'm stronger than most palace brats, and you're just like EVERY other."

With one last yank, she threw the girl into the yard, wiping her hands on her breeches, so as to get rid of scum.

She stood in the doorway, waiting for the girl to crawl to the stables and stay there.

Finally, she walked back to the garden, where Legolas was sitting angrily.

"That was unnecessary, Ninniach," he told her angrily.

"Was it really? You looked pretty content with that wench. _She can't make you happy_," she told him, emphasizing her words desperately.

"I know," he replied softly, searching her face. "I've already picked the elf I'm going to marry."

"Good. I hope you have a happy life," Ninniach told him shortly, tears in her eyes.

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist.

"I want you to meet her," he said.

"I don't _want _to meet her!" she whined. "I don't want any of this!"

"Come on, she's coming. I'll go show you the best spot to see her." He led her through the garden, towards her own House. He led her up the stairs, towards her room. "Legolas, I don't think I can best see her there--" she started, but he stopped her with a look.

In her room, he led her to the spot that she hadn't anticipated—past the window, into her closet, and towards the back, where there was a large mirror.

He shoved her in front of the mirror, holding her there. "_This _is who I'm going to marry. No other is enough for me. None other can handle the fights, the bickering, my love."

Her tears were streaming down her face, and she looked weary. "I don't understand," she sobbed.

"You, Ninniach. Only you."

* * *

Epilogue-Ish

When Legolas' father came home, a wedding was waiting for him. Thranduil happily consented the marriage of the child he had come to love like a niece after years of yanking her out of the mead (in her early years), and catching her smoking Old Toby. She had been the one to push his son down in the mud (repeatedly) and make him cry, save him from certain death during a hunt, and keep a giant spider for a pet, until it discovered its truer natures. In addition, she had been a soldier, a war hero, nobility, and worthy of her son mentally. The old elf was content.

Gandalf was present, and had been able to present some of the best fireworks any of the elves had ever seen (in the event they had ever seen fireworks). Every ninny for miles around had come, just to see whom Legolas had picked. Some of them were abhorrent of the very idea that Legolas marry his sister—until Elrond had sarcastically filled them in.

The gifts were all lovely. Ninniach was presented with a great deal of clothing, which irritated her, but she was also given some very nice weaponry and useful items (carrots by the gardener--"Plant them yourself!") by those that knew her well.

When the party wound down, Legolas and Ninniach retired to their chamber with a bottle of the best mead to be found anywhere, given to them by Thranduil. Unable to find something to carefully get the top of so they could remember this night forever, Legolas ran next door to Tintilar's quarters. He knocked on the elf's doors, but no one came. Finally Legolas opened the door, and saw to his surprise that his friend was being in held in the arms of Ninniach's sister—both devoid of clothing.

Legolas left quickly, but when shutting the door, smiled a knowing smile. ♫

* * *

Ta da! So, what'd you think? Review please. Flames welcome.


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